


The Other Alpha

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Crowley, Alpha Michael, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Awkward morning after, Claiming, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Bites, Minor Destiel, Mistaken Identity, Mpreg, Non-traditional alpha traits, Omega Dean, Omegaverse, SPN A/B/O Bingo, Smut, True Mates, Wedding, blowjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 13:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: Michael doesn't want to marry Dean, he's already found his true mate. But there is no way out of the binding contract of his arranged marriage to Dean Winchester.  It sucks.When he finds out that Dean is pregnant, and when Dean's pregnancy gets more and more dangerous, Michael is racked with guilt, but there's nothing he can do.Is there a way for Michael and Dean to be happy?





	The Other Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 square filled for A/B/O bingo: Arranged Marriage
> 
> Here's the first chapter of the companion piece for [Into His Alpha's Arms](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922755/chapters/49739099) by [Redamber79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redamber79/pseuds/Redamber79).
> 
> If you've read it, you know Dean's side of the story, now it's time for Michael's side!
> 
> Thank you to FPWoper for the beta!!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

Michael looked at himself in the mirror. He was a picture of exactly what every Alpha should look like on his wedding day. His tuxedo was crisp, clean, and freshly pressed, the starched white shirt a bright contrast to the black jacket. His diamond cufflinks gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window and his black hair was combed neatly to one side. Outward appearances meant very little in his case, however, because Michael didn’t  _ feel _ like an Alpha should feel on one of the most important days of his life.

Arranged marriages were preposterous and outdated but were still upheld by traditional laws that were never taken off the books. So here he was, tweaking his perfect bowtie for the five-hundredth time and avoiding human contact at all costs. At least until he could pull himself together and walk out the door without the bitter smell of burnt coffee following him. There was no reason to upset the guests. It wasn’t as though any of this was their fault. Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. In less than an hour, Dean Winchester would be Dean Milton—his husband. There was nothing to be done about it; the contract was binding.

While he couldn’t seem to tamp down the resentment he felt toward Dean, his parents, and the whole situation, Michael was smart enough to at least keep neutralizers on hand. He spritzed himself and hoped it was enough. Tucking the little bottle back into his pocket, he took a deep breath, plastered on a Milton Bank & Trust customer service smile, and opened the door. The hall thrummed with activity; wedding guests he didn’t recognize making their pre-ceremony rounds, florists putting the very final touches on the extravagant arrangements his mother had insisted on, and family members who were impossible to avoid crowded what seemed like every available space.

Michael, for his part, just wanted to make it through the rest of the day without losing his cool. The throng of people that stood between him and his destination—and the cloying Alpha and Omega scents mingling in the air—were absolutely not helping. It was hard to breathe and his chest was tightening, his inner wolf growled against the discomfort of the cacophony.  _ RUN-FREE-RUN _ . But he had to stay, so halfway to the central chapel, Michael did the next best thing and ducked into a closet that was thankfully unlocked so he could catch his breath for a moment. It was dark and quiet, and he leaned against one of the walls taking slow, deep, calming breaths.

The race of his heart was just starting to calm when the door opened and shut again quickly. A breath later, Michael was hit with the thick, rich scents of chocolate and coconut and  _ MATE-MINE _ . And then his brain short-circuited as lips pressed roughly against his and the weight of a familiar body pinned him to the wall. A rumbling purr began deep in his chest and when his mouth was free, Michael was breathless again but for an entirely different reason.

“Hello, darling,” Crowley said, his voice low and his heated breath fanning across Michael’s skin.

“Crowley, what are you doing here?” Michael asked, wrapping his arms around his love and burying his face in his neck to deeply breathe in the comforting, home scent.

“Your father invited me,” he said, bitterness creeping into the warm chocolate air for just a moment. “As for why I am here in this coat closet, you were distressed. You needed me, so I came.”

Michael calmed considerably in the presence of his Alpha. “I always need you. You know that. I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next week.” His eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness and he could see Crowley’s face now as he lifted his head away from the scent gland that his wolf howled for him to sink his teeth into. If Michael had his way, this man would be his husband at the end of the day. But even in a conservative state, Zachariah and Naomi Milton were old-fashioned. They would never allow their Alpha son to marry another Alpha. Definitely not one that was sixteen years older than him. And certainly not when there was a perfectly decent Omega slated to meet Michael at the altar.

Crowley’s eyes flashed red, noticeable even in the dimness of the tiny, unlit room. “You’ll survive because you have me to come back to.” His hands trailed down Michael’s sides, one resting on his hip as the other dipped below his waist and cupped the bulge of his already hardening length. “Perhaps I’ll give you something to remember me by while you’re gone.”

Michael swallowed the low growl forming in his throat. “I’m getting married in twenty minutes, love. We can’t do this right now.” His cock, of course, had other ideas, straining for freedom as Crowley unzipped his slacks. Michael groaned as his lover dropped to his knees and mouthed him through the fabric of his boxers. His voice strained when he spoke again. “Alpha, please…” he trailed off, unsure whether he was asking Crowley to stop or spurring him on. 

“Hush now, darling,” Crowley whispered, chuckling darkly. “Wouldn’t want to get caught like this on your wedding day.” Then there were no more words because the Alpha had as much of Michael’s substantial length in his mouth as he could fit. 

Somehow, Michael managed to keep the noise down to the low purring rumble deep in his chest while Crowley’s tongue circled the head of his cock. Then Crowley hollowed his cheeks, sucking Michael hard. One hand laced into Crowley’s hair, the other fisted into some poor fool’s jacket hanging beside Michael, and his wolf whined and howled, reveling in the pleasure of  _ ALPHA-MATE-MINE. _ His instincts screamed for him to haul Crowley up off the floor, knot him, and claim him then and there, but through a feat of sheer willpower, Michael resisted.

He was soaring, their combined scents intoxicating and heady as Crowley drove him higher. As the heat pooled in his pelvis and his balls tightened, Michael let out a strangled moan and came suddenly and forcefully. Crowley worked him through the toe-curling orgasm with his hand and mouth, swallowing almost every last drop of his release. Blinking away the stars, Michael watched as Crowley stood, his eyes ringed red, and carefully tucked Michael back into the pants of his tuxedo. Reality rushed back far too quickly as he heard the sound of his zipper.

“I don’t want to do this,” Michael said softly, pulling Crowley close to him. “I don’t want to marry Dean.”

Crowley brought Michael’s face toward his, so their foreheads touched, and said, “I know, love. But this is the way it has to be. For now. So, let’s put you back together and get you on your way before you’re late to your own wedding, hmm?” The false cheer in his voice couldn’t disguise the heavy sadness that rolled from him in waves.

Michael just nodded and smiled sadly. “Right. Not much time left at all.” He busied himself flattening his jacket and making sure his shirt was properly tucked in. When he was satisfied that he looked as tidy as he would get, he pulled Crowley in for one final kiss. Then, he spritzed himself with the neutralizer again—his mother would have a heart attack if he showed up at the altar smelling the way he did at that moment—and stepped out of the closet, not looking back to see if Crowley followed.

Despite how he felt about the whole situation, the stolen moments with Crowley improved Michael’s mood dramatically. He managed to keep a nearly sincere smile on his face all the way into the chapel. His mother looked at him from her seat in the front pew on his side of the church, brow furrowed with worry. Glancing up at his watch, Michael realized he was making it to his proper post with only five minutes to spare. Of course, Naomi was worried. Michael never arrived anywhere less than fifteen minutes early. He sent what he hoped was a reassuring look her way and took his place next to his best man, Luke.

His nerves were bubbling up again as he searched the crowd. The Miltons had insisted on having the wedding at the largest church in the city, and they had packed it nearly to capacity with Naomi’s socialite friends and Zachariah’s successful business associates. Michael scarcely recognized any of the faces in the pews. The guests that Dean had invited took only the first few rows on the Omega’s side of the chapel. Sweeping his gaze across the room once more, Michael caught the only pair of eyes in the room that mattered, ignoring the instinct to go to Crowley and simply returning the sad, tight smile as the processional music started. 

The procession itself was short, Dean having only Charlie with him as his Omega-of-Honor, and soon enough she stood across the aisle behind Michael’s husband-to-be in a floor-length burgundy gown that matched the Dean’s bowtie and pocket square.

“Hello, Dean,” Michael said, meeting the familiar, nervous, bright green eyes of his promised Omega. He didn’t bother to offer comfort as he swallowed the lump of resentment that lodged itself in his throat. His nose twitched in distaste at the apple and pastry scent that filled the air around Dean. It wasn’t really unpleasant; it just reminded Michael of apple pie, which he’d never liked.

The music stopped and the room quieted, allowing the voice of the priest to boom clearly through it as he started reading the proscribed verses from the Bible he held in his hands. Michael didn’t hear most of it. The words just drifted as he avoided meeting Dean’s eyes again. They reflected the same anguish he felt and Michael really just didn’t have the fortitude to examine it so closely.

“If anyone objects to the union of this Alpha to this Omega, speak now,” the priest said.

Michael couldn’t deny that he hoped Crowley would say something—anything—to get him out of this, but it was not surprising when only silence followed. The ceremony continued without incident. Michael repeated the words he was meant to, and Dean did the same. Luke pressed a ring into Michael’s hand and he slid it carefully onto Dean’s finger. Then Dean took his ring from Charlie and slid it onto Michael’s finger. 

It was so much more than a well-crafted silver ring as it came to rest in its proper place. It was a chain, binding him to Dean in a way that no one seemed to care that neither of them wanted. A  _ cage _ .

“Do you, Dean Winchester, take Michael Milton as your lawfully wedded Alpha, to live in the holy bond of matrimony? Will you honor, comfort, and obey him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

Dean looked up at the priest, swallowing and said in a low, tight voice, “I do.”

“And do you, Michael Milton, take Dean Winchester as your lawfully wedded Omega, to live in the holy bond of matrimony? Will you honor, care for, and provide for him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

Michael hesitated, fighting the urge to search out the eyes of the man he loved in the crowd. A wave of guilt washed over him as he told what he knew to be the first lie of his marriage. “I do.”

“Then in the name of God and the Church of Christ, I now pronounce you Alpha and Omega.” The priest looked down at Michael. “You may kiss your husband.”

Michael leaned in hesitantly and pressed a quick, soft kiss to Dean’s waiting, compliant lips before immediately pulling away. Even at this distance, he scented the disappointment that hung heavy in the air over the first few rows of guests. He couldn’t make himself smile as he took Dean’s hand and turned toward the audience.

“Under the divine eye of God, I now present to you, Mister and Mister Michael Milton.”

From the corner of his eye, Michael saw Dean wince. The tradition was ridiculous; it was like sublimating the entire identity of a human being, and even though he didn’t want to be married to Dean, Michael hated the odor of stifled humiliation on him. He was a good man and he didn’t deserve it. “We just have to make it through the reception and then we can get the hell out of here,” Michael whispered to Dean as he led his new husband down the center aisle of the chapel.

“Awesome,” Dean growled in response. It was very clear that he did not think it was awesome. At least they agreed on something. Michael very pointedly avoided eye contact as he passed Crowley and caught a breath of dark chocolate. 

They were guided into the back of a limousine parked in front of the church. It would be taking them to the country club where Michael’s parents had insisted on holding the reception. The tension hung heavy and palpable in the air between them. It didn’t sit well with him but he didn’t think he could dispel it. He tried anyway. “Dean, I’m sorry. About all of this. I know you don’t want this any more than I do.”

“Forget it,” Dean replied. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway. I guess it never really did. Binding contract and all.” He stared out the window, fingers tapping against his knee.

“Yeah. I just…” Michael trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t as if there were some magic phrase that would fix everything. “Look, we’ve known each other our entire lives. If nothing else, we should at least try to approach this as friends. If we don’t, we’re only going to make ourselves more miserable.”

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed deflated when he finally looked at Michael. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s not like this is your fault. You didn’t get any more say than I did.”

Michael smiled genuinely, probably for the first time that day, and stuck his hand out toward Dean. “Truce?”

Dean took it and shook once. “Yeah. Truce.” The mood lightened a little but not much, and Dean went back to staring out the window. “People are going to expect things from us.”

Michael knew he was right. It was just something he avoided thinking about. People would expect him to claim Dean, and he just couldn’t do that. Not when his heart and soul belonged to someone else. “Don’t worry about that. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. We both know that obedience line in the stupid wedding ceremony is outdated, traditional bullshit. I’m not that guy.”

“You don’t care what people are gonna say about the Alpha who didn’t mate his Omega?” 

“No, Dean, I don’t,” Michael said flatly. “Do you?”

“Of course not.”

The limo rolled to a stop at the entrance of the club and Michael sighed. “This is a discussion we will have to have at some point, but for now, let’s at least try to enjoy ourselves a little. It’s a party. There will be champagne and an open bar.”

Dean looked over at him again. “Yeah, alright. I could use a drink."

* * *

An hour and a half and an embarrassing toast from his father later, Michael felt like the party was taking entirely too long. He was tired and he wanted to go, but they hadn’t even done the whole bit with opening their wedding gifts. Why that had to be done before they could leave, he didn’t know. Tradition striking again, probably. The whole damn thing was only made more difficult by the fact that Crowley was there. His wolf was restless.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed to be having a great time. It was good to see him smile and laugh, even if he mostly kept to his family. Michael lost count of how many drinks his husband—it was going to take a lot of getting used to, thinking of Dean that way—went through, but it was plenty clear that he was intoxicated. Fortunately for them both, Michael wasn’t much of a drinker. Especially not in public.

Especially not at his wedding reception that his lover was also attending.

Scanning the crowd, Michael finally spotted his mother and made his way through the guests to stand by her side, avoiding the touch of as many as possible. “Mother, may I steal you away for a moment?” He smiled politely at the older man she’d been talking to.

“Yes, dear, of course,” Naomi said. She turned back to the guest with the wonderfully false socialite smile she’d perfected over the years. “Please excuse me, Jim. I’ll be back very soon.”

Michael followed his mother to a relatively private corner. “Mom, I’m very tired and we still have the drive to wherever you and Father booked the honeymoon. If we must open wedding gifts before we leave, may we please do it now?”

Even with her skill at showing little-to-no emotion, Michael didn’t miss the sour look that crossed Naomi’s face. “But, sweetheart, what about the guests? And the party?”

“What about them?” Michael sighed heavily, something he’d been doing a lot of that day. “I thought tonight was supposed to be about me, Mom. It’s my wedding, my reception, and I think I’m entitled to have a say in how long it goes on.”

Naomi’s lips pursed. “Very well, Michael. Go retrieve Dean and sit by the gift table. I’ll gather the guests.” Her voice was strained and he could smell her irritation permeating the air, but Michael couldn’t be bothered to care if she was unhappy. Misery loves company, after all.

He nodded and made his way toward the Winchester family. John, Sam, and Dean were gathered together in a corner away from most of the festivities. Walking up to the two Alphas might have made another man start a pissing contest, but Michael had no interest in besting Sam or John. He’d known them as long as he’d known Dean. Technically longer, in John’s case, though he didn’t remember.

“John,” Michael said, reaching out to shake his father-in-law’s hand. “It’s good to see you, sir. How’s business?”

John smiled and grasped Michael’s hand firmly, shaking it once. “Long as people have cars, they’ll need someone around to fix them.”

When his hand was released, Michael turned to Sam and greeted him just as warmly. Sam’s smile was significantly less friendly than John’s, but it was only because he was intimately familiar with how his brother felt about this marriage.

“Dean, I’ve managed to convince my mother to let us open the gifts early so we can get out of here.” Michael touched his husband’s arm and Dean grimaced.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “Let’s get it over with.”

They said their goodbyes to Sam and John and took their places next to the gift table. Naomi had assembled the party guests to watch, and Michael found himself scanning the faces. He was a little disappointed when he didn’t see Crowley, though he’d been avoiding his lover all night. He didn’t hear a word his mother said as she started handing the beautifully wrapped gifts to him and Dean.

It was mostly the usual. A blender, a fine set of China, wine glasses and champagne flutes. All clearly from people who didn’t know either of the men very well. But still, they were the sort of things a well-off couple ought to have in their home when starting a new life together. They were nearing the end when Dean opened a box wrapped in dark red paper, and a familiar, heady scent of dark chocolate and coconut hit Michael like a ton of bricks.

His head snapped to the side, watching as Dean pulled a black tee shirt out of the box. He pulled it out and unfolded it, seeming unaffected by the smell. He shook it out so the words printed on the front were visible. Blocky white letters spelled out the words ‘Just Married.’

Michael knew beyond the shadow of a doubt the gift was meant for him. Crowley really had given him something to remember him by while he was gone. It was an unfortunate twist of fate that the box had been handed to Dean. Michael searched the crowd again, and he was met by Crowley’s casual smirk. Sending a small smile in his lover’s direction, Michael went back to opening gifts until the only thing left was a small envelope.

Opening it, he reached in and came back with two plane tickets. To Hawaii. This must be what his parents had planned for the honeymoon. Michael sighed. How could they be so inconsiderate?

“Uh… plane tickets?” Dean asked nervously. When Michael glanced over at him, Dean already looked a little green in the gills.

“Don’t worry about it, Dean. I’ll take care of it.” Michael shook his head and rose from the chair, closing the distance between himself and his parents.

“What’s wrong, son?” Zachariah asked, clearly scenting anger in the air.

“Dean’s afraid of flying,” he answered, a low growl in his voice. As if the whole situation wasn’t uncomfortable enough already. “How could you forget that?”

“Darling, it’s alright,” Naomi said, resting a hand on Michael’s arm. He promptly shook off the touch.

Glaring at her, he said, “No, it’s not. You’ve already forced us into a marriage that neither of us wanted. Isn’t that enough?” He shoved the envelope into his mother’s hand, ignoring the staring of the guests as he raised his voice. “If you insist that we have a honeymoon, I will drive us to the vacation house. I refuse to be as insensitive to the needs of others as you.”

Without giving either of his parents the chance to answer, Michael stalked away from them and returned to Dean’s side. 

“I don’t have to fly, do I?” Dean asked weakly.

Michael shook his head firmly. “Of course not. We’re not going to Hawaii. They can take those plane tickets and shove them.” He was pissed, but he softened a little when he spoke to Dean again. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll tell the staff to deliver the gifts to my place so you have time to say goodbye to your family before we leave.”

Dean just nodded and headed off toward his father and brother. Still fuming, Michael stalked over to a member of the country club’s staff and gave him clear instructions on the delivery of the pile of gifts, and wrote down his address. Without saying another word, he took Dean by the arm and led him outside, getting into a car that had been left in the parking lot for them.

It was only once they were in the car and on the road that Michael noticed Dean was still clutching the t-shirt that smelled like Crowley.

It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

In reality, the ride to the Milton’s vacation home in the Hamptons had only taken a few hours. But between the stress of the reception and the way Crowley’s scent filled the cabin of the car, Michael was exhausted. He and Dean had talked for a while about nothing in particular, but Dean’s drunkenness caught up with him once there wasn’t enough going on to keep him entertained and he fell asleep in the passenger seat.

Michael woke Dean up as soon as the car was parked in the garage. It was nearly 2am and all he wanted to do was sleep. They could worry about tomorrow when they woke up. “Come on, bud, we’re here.”

Dean blinked groggily and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay, ‘m up.” He gathered his things and opened the door. 

Following suit, Michael stepped out of the car and grabbed their bags from the trunk. He walked over to the door and his tired fingers fumbled with the key for a moment before sliding it into the slot and turning it. “I’ll show you where the kitchen and bathroom are tonight, but I’m exhausted. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow for a full tour.”

“That’s fine,” Dean grumbled behind him. Michael looked over his shoulder at Dean as he flipped the light switch. Dean’s eyes widened a little as he looked around the great room. “Wow, this is really nice.”

Michael nodded and pointed off to the left. “Kitchen’s through there if you’re hungry or want a drink. There’s no staff here, at least not yet. They weren’t expecting us, so they probably won’t be here until sometime tomorrow. Bedroom’s upstairs.”

Dean’s eyes flicked to Michael’s and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Would it be okay if I just slept on the couch? I’m not…” his voice trailed off and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Yeah,” Michael said, trying not to let the relief flooding him color his tone too much. “Yeah, of course. I’ll grab you a blanket and a couple of pillows. The downstairs bathroom is down the hall, second door on the right.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged, and he looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Hey, thanks, man. I think I’m gonna hit the head while you get the blanket and stuff.”

Michael dropped Dean’s bag on the floor next to the big couch in the living room and then trudged up the stairs. He made his way down the hall and let his own bag fall onto the bed in the master suite before heading back out to the linen closet to get the things Dean needed. When he got back downstairs, Dean was already sitting on the couch with a tumbler of amber liquid—probably the good whiskey Michael’s dad kept stocked in the liquor cabinet in the kitchen.

Dropping the pillows and blanket on the couch next to Dean, Michael smiled. “Here you go. We’ve got about a thousand channels,” he said, gesturing to the TV. “I’m going to bed. Tomorrow we can try and find something fun to do so we’re not cooped up in the house.”

“Sounds good,” Dean replied, already reaching for the remote. 

Michael patted him on the shoulder awkwardly as he walked past. He ambled back up the stairs and to the master suite, stripping off his clothes and dropping them haphazardly on the floor, before sliding under the sheets. The cotton was soft and comforting against his bare skin, and Michael was asleep in moments.

* * *

Michael’s eyes fluttered open when he felt the bed dip under someone else’s weight, but closed again almost immediately in his exhaustion. His nostrils flared, filling with a familiar scent of chocolate and coconut, and he wrapped an arm around Crowley’s warm body and pulled him close. His half-asleep body reacted almost immediately, a rumbling purr in his chest as his cock plumped against the thin fabric of his lover’s boxers.

Lazily, Michael rutted against Crowley and dragged fingers down his side over the t-shirt he wore. He thought it odd that Crowley wore anything to bed; usually he slept as naked as Michael was, but the thought was dismissed as he felt the damp of slick staining boxers. His hand slipped between smooth skin and elastic waistband, fingers sliding down to tease at Crowley’s already leaking hole.

A shudder ran through Crowley’s body as Michael pressed a finger past the ring of muscle easily, eased by the slick, and Michael groaned. He was hard as a rock already, and Crowley didn’t need much in the way of prep, so he pulled his finger out and took his cock in his hand, slowly burying himself in tight, slick heat. 

Michael fucked Crowley slowly, drawing whimpers and whines from him that weren’t quite like any sound he’d ever made before. Gripping Crowley’s hip tightly, fingertips pressing into flesh, Michael’s pace quickened, and he could feel his knot just starting to swell as his lips searched for the flesh of his lover’s neck. Drawing a deep breath as he nuzzled the scent gland there, Michael’s nose wrinkled as he was overwhelmed by the scent of apples.

His eyes snapped open to see Dean. “Fuck,” he breathed, guilt washing over him suddenly. He tried to pull away, but Dean reached back and gripped his hips. Even knowing that it wasn’t Crowley, the bite of Dean’s nails into his flesh made his already swelling knot grow.

“Don’t stop, Alpha,” Dean slurred. Michael could smell the whiskey on his breath now. “Feels good.” Dean was rocking his hips, drunkenly fucking himself on Michael’s cock, and it took all of Michael’s effort to pull out as his knot popped. 

He moaned brokenly, the physical ecstasy of the orgasm almost enough to overtake the guilt. Michael had only just avoided knotting Dean. He wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself if he had done it. Dean was barely still awake.

Michael felt dirty. He rolled out of bed to find something to clean up the mess he’d made, walking into the ensuite and dousing a washcloth with warm water. Returning to the bedroom, he found that Dean had fallen asleep in the interim, so he cleaned up as best he could and then returned to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

No amount of soap or hot water could make Michael feel better, it seemed, or wash away the scent of burnt coffee that hung in the air around him. He stayed in the shower until it ran cold, and when he got out, he was still thoroughly disgusted with himself. Quite certain he wouldn’t be going back to sleep any time soon, he dried off and got dressed before heading downstairs to the living room and turning on the TV.

God damn, Michael was an idiot. How could he have let that happen? He didn’t even know what he was watching; he wasn’t paying attention to it through the downward spiral of his thoughts. How was he even going to look at Dean in the morning? How was he going to tell Crowley? His wolf whined and curled into itself. The shame was overwhelming.

* * *

When he woke to the sun shining brightly through the tall windows, Michael groaned. His head ached from the lack of sleep, and he most certainly was not looking forward to seeing Dean. He laid back on the couch, blocking out the light with a forearm over his eyes. Part of him hoped that Dean had been drunk enough that he wouldn’t remember what happened, but Michael knew that even if that was the case, they would still have to talk about it.

He heard Dean’s heavy, stumbling steps coming down the stairs and contemplated pretending he was still asleep. With a sigh, Michael rolled off the couch and ran a hand through his messy hair before following Dean into the kitchen. They moved awkwardly around each other, neither of them speaking, as they tried to get some coffee and breakfast. In the end, Michael was at the coffee pot and Dean was at the stove.

“Killer hangover,” Dean mumbled as he took the steaming mug of black coffee Michael was offering him. “I was pretty wasted, huh?”

Michael nodded and took a sip from his own cup. “Yeah.” 

Dean flipped the bacon, and for a long moment the only sound in the kitchen was the sizzle of the meat cooking on the griddle. “Listen, about last night—”

“We need to talk about — ” 

They broke off at the same time, and Michael chuckled. He took a deep breath and set his mug down on the marble countertop. Looking away from Dean, he felt his cheeks color and scented his own embarrassment. “How much do you remember?”

“It’s a little spotty. I know—” Dean paused and Michael could hear him swallow harshly. “I know there was sex. I don’t really remember, uh, how far it went.” 

The heavy combined scents of their shame was cloying and Michael wanted to run. His wolf vehemently agreed. But he stayed. “I didn’t knot you, Dean.”

“Oh.” Dean breathed a sigh of relief, his scent mellowing considerably. “That’s good.”

Michael touched Dean’s arm gently to get Dean to look at him. “I would never do that without permission. I know that after last night, you might not believe that because, whether it was intentional or not, I took advantage of you while you were drunk—”

“Stop,” Dean interrupted. “If anyone should feel guilty here, it’s me. Yeah, I was drunk. But I knew what I was doing when I climbed in bed with you.” His green eyes were full of remorse as he stared at Michael. “I’m sorry for putting you in that situation.”

Regardless of Dean’s words, Michael still felt like he took advantage. Dean was drunk; he didn’t have an excuse. At least not one he could give Dean. He shouldn’t have let it happen. “I’m sorry, too.”

Dean put bacon and eggs on two plates and handed one to Michael, and the two of them sat across from each other at the island. The silence that hung between them was thick and uncomfortable, and Michael wondered how the hell he was going to make it through the rest of the honeymoon as he stared down at his food.


End file.
